WulfGurl
by thevixendixon
Summary: Rahne's backstory. The fight between wolf and girl from Scotland to Muir Island to New York.
1. the genesis of a good life

Disclaimer: I only own the story.

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**Chapter 1:** the genesis of a good life

It's a typical bright summer day. Birds singing. Children playing in the street.

A young woman shields herself from the debris of a passing car. A 'woman' hardly more than twenty. Most likely much less. Her body shows the signs of hard work and a life of difficulty. Experience beyond its years. But her eyes shine of innocence.

Eargh. She grunts and balances herself with one hand against a nearby wall and the other clutching her enormous belly. She distracts herself by staring into the sky as she waits for the pain to pass, her long red hair flowing behind her in the wind. The sun watches over her on the right, the moon on her left, both in the peak of their prowess. Locked in a battle for control as the sky is unable to decide.

The pain subsides for the moment and she stumbles along as best she can. No one seeming to notice the pregnant child let alone care. She comes upon the two majestic doors, the two doors she had imagined time and time again in the past two months, and takes a small moment to absorb their beauty. Her imagination did nothing to prepare her for the real thing. It had been a long time since she had been around anything so magnificent.

With a quick surge the pain comes again, stronger than ever before and she bellows it out as she falls to the floor on her knees. She pulls on the door's handle with all the might she can muster only to find it locked. She sinks deeper to the floor in defeat. After everything only to be turned down at the entrance of her sanctuary. There is a scuffling coming from the inside of the church and the young girl raises her head in hope. The door opens.

"Annabelle," he tells her, but she is too weak to notice. "Annabelle! I told you never to show your face here!" The man is almost double her age, but her pregnancy makes the difference appear much smaller. He has a commanding presence and was he to smile, a kind face. A true spiritual leader. He stands tall and straight with complete confidence in his convictions. He grabs her by the shoulders and forcibly pulls her up. Looking around in haste he quickly attempts to pull her into the church. But he suddenly freezes, the girl almost limp in his arms, as he sees a pool of blood gathered on the stoop where the girl once lay.

"Reverend Craig! What is this?"

"Reverend Galbraith!"

Reverend Galbraith was considerably older than the other man. His head nearly void of hair and his stomach plump with his pastry filled life in stark contrast to the young girl roughly cradled in Reverend Craig's arms.

Her body is well covered but a trickle of blood can still be seen running down her bare leg from the bottom of her dress to the top of her boots. She screams again in pain.

"What are you doing to this girl? Can't you see she needs a doctor?"

"I have done nothing. This is a sign. God is punishing her for the sins she committed in her life as a whore."

"Nonsense, Craig. This is a church and we do what we can for any who enter those doors."

"Reverend Craig?" The hushed words that come from Annabelle break the intensity of the room if only for a moment. She tosses her head about in an attempt to locate Reverend Craig in what must have been a mix of reality with some sort of delusion or memory. Both men look down at the girl in shock and confusion. "Reverend Craig, please," she begs. "Please don't ask me to kill my child."

ooooo ooooo break ooooo ooooo

After all the panic and screaming and crying and running around, the church seemed to echo the suddenly eerie quiet more than anything before. There is a sound at the door and Reverend Craig looks up at it expectantly. His fingers are interlaced and resting upon his lap. Hidden in the palm of his hand is a small silver cross, obviously worn down. He rubs his thumb up and down the prominent scratch down the front while praying for some sort of miracle, as if God were a genie and all he need do is rub that broken cross.

The door opens after what seems like an eternity and in walks Reverend Galbraith with the blanket in his arms.

"How is the mother? Anna – Ms. Sinclair?"

Galbraith looked from the child in his arms to the man in front of him. "Unfortunately, she didn't survive. But she is in God's hands now."

"It's a shame. Who knows what's in store for the child being raised in an orphanage." He looks down at his hands and shakes his head in a very realistic shame. "And how is the child?"

"Beautiful. Perfect." Reverend Galbraith takes a hand and runs his fingertips through the little wisps of red hair on the baby's tiny head. "Craig? How did you know the young woman's name?"

"Oh, she told me. At the door," he replies in haste. "Was she able to name the child?" Quick to change the subject.

"Yes. Named after her grandfather. Rahne."

The Reverend's face subtly lights up. "Oh. A boy. That's nice."

"Not exactly." He smiles again at the little girl. "Reverend, do you really show no interest in holding your daughter?"

Craig stares up at the older man in sudden disbelief. As the Reverend's knowledge catches him by surprise, he is no longer ready to deny these 'ridiculous' accusations. "Come now. Did you honestly expect no one would figure it out?" Reverend Galbraith looks from daughter to father. "You should know that whatever you have done has no bearing with me, or any other man for that matter. But God is watching. And He will be judging whatever it is you choose to do now. Here Reverend." Galbraith hands him the child and sits down in the pew beside him, the massive gold cross at the front of the room staring down at them.

Craig holds his daughter awkwardly in his hands for the first time. Her tiny vulnerable head cradled safely in the crook of his arm. Her eyelids bob up and down attempting to fight off the sleep that overcomes her. And through those little slits they leave he sees how green her eyes really are. Green like his own.

"Take your child and give her a good life. Her mother would want that. After all she gave her your name." He takes his finger and strokes her little hand. "Little Rahne Craig."

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next chapter - crossing the i's: rahne at 7.


	2. crossing the i's

Disclaimer: I only own the story.

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Chapter 2: crossing the i's 

"Miss Sinclair!" The Reverend bellows out into the hallway from the comfort of his desk.

In the seven years that had passed he had begun to look considerably older. He had moved halfway across the country to begin his new life away from the prying eyes of those he once knew. But the followers of this new town had nothing but praise for the man and his work. Now heading his own church and raising that poor orphan girl as his own. His face now creased with lines and hair speckled with white. But he remained strong and his face deceptively kind.

A young girl runs into the office and now stands beside the Reverend's chair with a tiny hand on his desk, panting for breath. She is incredibly small for her age but strong and intelligent nonetheless. Her beautiful red hair unevenly cut short and kept close to her scalp. Her green eyes brim with shy playfulness and her school uniform shoes are dotted with dried mud. An old cross dawns her chest.

"Yes, sir?"

The Reverend continues to scribble into the formerly empty pages of the book on his desk. "Have you finished scrubbing the kitchen floor?"

"Yes, sir." She presents herself at attention, both hands now clasped behind her back.

"And what have you learned?" He shoots her a glance over the rim of his wiry reading glasses.

"Hard work purifies the soul. An idle body is the vessel of evil." She recites. Not so much something she learned while scrubbing the floor but something that had been drilled often into her brain.

"Good. And have you anything to confess?"

"No, sir."

"No?" The Reverend turns his seat to face the girl. He takes his glasses off and places them on the desk beside him. "No man is sin free. Tell me, Rahne, what happens to those who lie?"

"They go to hell." Her voice no longer as confident as it once had been.

"Yes, Rahne. They burn in the hellfire tortured by demons for all eternity as your whoring mother does now."

"Reverend Craig?" Her voice now obviously racked with a child's vulnerability.

"Yes, child?" The Reverend reaches over to grab hold of the pen once again to continue dotting his I's and crossing his T's.

"Is my father in hell too?" The Reverend shoots back towards the young girl with fire in his eyes. CRACK! The feel of Rahne's chin reverberates through the Reverend's entire arm as his palm slams against the small child's face throwing her back from the force. On the floor now she grabs at her face with her hands backing away from the man until the wall behind her forces her to stop. Both ears turn red and feel as if they are on fire along with the rest of the left side of her face. Tears streaming down her cheeks, she takes in heavy broken breaths, unable to make any other sound.

"What have I told you, child?" The Reverend stands in all his strength towering over her. He yells his superiority down at her wagging his hand furiously. His face turns a dark red in anger matching his now reddened palm. "You are never to speak of that man again. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir." She cowers. Instinctively attempting to protect herself from any further blows already knowing it would be of no use.

"You have one father and He is God."

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sorry the chapter is so short. i thought adding to it would take away some of the effect. more plot stuff coming in the next chapter. To Jessie07, thank you so much for my one and only review. This thing barely has over 20 hits and i got a review from that! i guess most people don't like rahne. so i also want to thank everyone thats reading for actually giving me a chance. 

next chapter: the big one, one  
a chapter of pseudointroductions including the Professor, Moira MacTaggert, and the wolf


	3. the big one, one

Whenever the Professor and Moira talk on the phone Xavier is the one on the other side so his voice is in italics. The 'phonversations' have no narration. They're all quotes so I didn't think it was necessary to put in quotation marks.

Disclaimer: I only own the story. And Jinty, but she's not really important.

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**Chapter 3:** the big one, one

An older Rahne wakes up in a coughing fit. She feels like she had just braved a sandstorm and now her lungs are drowning in the dirt. Her red alarm clock glares a bright red 2:37 as she reaches around blindly in the dark for the light switch. She groans and holds her hand up to her face as the light suddenly flashes on. Now having to deal with the throbbing pain in her eyes, her mind finally registers what it was her alarm clock was attempting to relay to her, a thought which pains her even more. She slowly opens her eyes again and peers through the gaps in her fingers. She suddenly shoots back in fear wide-eyed. Feathers and stuffing fly everywhere. Shreds of fabric litter the carpet. The posts of her bed are covered with strange teeth marks and her lamp lay sideways on the floor. The wood from the door splinters out in huge chunks from what looks like scratching. There is even what looks to be a puddle in the corner by the dresser. Rahne looks around and notices fabric (from her shirt maybe?) strewn across the foot of the bed. She quickly looks down at herself and finds she is now unexplainably naked. Oh, Reverend Craig will have her head for this for sure.

ooooo ooooo break ooooo ooooo

Ring. Ring. Ring.

You've reached Doctor Moira MacTaggert. Please leave your name, number, and a short message and I will get back to you as soon as possible.

Beep.

_Hello Moira. This is Charles. It seems there's been another 'incident.' Same project. I'll give you full details soon._

ooooo ooooo break ooooo ooooo

"Hey Jinty. I'm really excited about your party." A young girl in a full plaid school uniform puts her lunch tray down next to another. She stuffs a full cookie into her mouth while squeezing into the small gap between her two friends but neither action brings a gap into their conversation. "I can't believe your mom is renting out the entire place."

"I know. Well, it's not everyday that a girl turns eleven you know. We're really into the two-digits now." The girl identified as Jinty laughs. Never too young for sarcasm. With her long gorgeous curls pulled tight behind her head and her modest peanut butter sandwich made with organic spread and bakery bread, it is obvious she was never really one for the extravagant life she was born into.

"Your birthday is always so late in the year."

"Always?"

"Ha. Ha."

"Just think of those other parties as warm ups. Have you thought about who else you wanted to invite?" Another one asks.

"I was thinking about inviting Rahne." She looks over at the other table. Rahne sits among a sea of plaid-skirted students taking small bites of her lunch. There is a roar of conversation all around her, but she sits in silence. She might as well be sitting alone in the corner of the room. "I don't think she gets out a whole lot."

"Rahne. Wake up." Jinty jabs the girl next to her with her elbow. Rahne shoots up in her seat. "The teacher's coming this way."

"Huh? What?" She struggles to come out of her dream world. Still unsure if she is asleep or not. Although she is quite ashamed for falling asleep during lecture, she is tired enough to wish deep down she still is. "Oh. Thanks."

"No problem." She whispers across the table as she pretends to finish her lesson. "Hey," she asks feeling slightly unsure of herself. "I was wondering if you were free this Saturday. I'm turning eleven and I wanted you to come to my party."

"Oh." Rahne wasn't expecting that. She didn't think they were friends or anything. So it was just a kind gesture, also something she didn't get a whole lot of. But it wasn't like she could go anyways. "Thanks, Jinty, but the Reverend doesn't really like me going out."

"Oh." Light disappointment lines her face.

Rahne scolds herself for leaving the conversation on such a note. Didn't even tell her how grateful she was for the invite. "Um… I hope you have fun though."

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next chapter: of milk and dumpsters, much better introductions


	4. of milk and dumpsters

Charter 4: of milk and dumpsters

I don't understand it, Charles. I'm a geneticist, not a psychologist.

_And?_

And I happen to have it on good authority that genetics and biology determine how, at what rate, and at what time a person grows. And as far as I can tell, that's how mutation works as well. Mutation is after all only an expression of genetics and wholly dependent on such. I mean, that _is_ what I've pretty much based my entire philosophy on. It sure would be a shame to have to throw away all my life's work now.

_Come now. No need to turn to dramatics. You know as well as I do that nothing is based 100 percent on biology. There are other… external aspects._

Yes, other _physical_ aspects. Drink milk and grow a foot. Even in these cases, these 'external' aspects are working along with biology. There's a difference between milk adding a few inches to a person's height and nutrients in the milk enhancing an already occurring growth spurt.

_And what about stress? Mental stress has been known to cause several physical changes in one's body: ulcers, increased blood pressure and heart rate, loss of hair –_

Yes, I understand, you have no hair. Honestly Charles, I'm not even sure what we're arguing about anymore.

_Argument for the sake of argument?_

Like college students again. But the bottom line is we have this girl that's simply a mystery. We can't help her with a problem until we understand what that problem is. How can her mutation, a very physical mutation, occur at such an early age, before her body is physically ready and what might this mean for her life?

_Moira, for my sake, just this once, think of it in mental terms. You say in human form she's incredibly shy and self-conscious. Now whether or not this was imposed on her by others, her beliefs, or herself, what if for her to become this way was, somehow unnatural? She had to push away this less controllable side of herself. The side that comes out in her wolf form. But it is my belief that nothing in the mind is ever completely rid of anything. Maybe this side of her felt the need to be released so strongly that it was the actual catalyst used to reveal her mutation. Perhaps that pushed her mutation to take shape before she was otherwise biologically ready. I know most scientists believe these mutations not present since birth to be directly linked to puberty, but perhaps this let's say 'genetic puberty' acts only in tandem with biological puberty and is not necessarily dependent on it._

Well Charles, I do hope you're right. This would certainly shed new light on the situation. In fact, depending on how serious the situation becomes, we might have to confront the girl before we originally assumed. But then again, if the situation is as you say, I fear our little Rahne has a very difficult road set out for her.

_ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo_

There's a dog. Brownish fur. Maybe. It's dark and she can't really tell. But it's huge, she knows that.

It's weird. Like she's watching from above. Or she's having an out of body experience. It leaves her wondering what the point of it all was. In this whole astral thing she can go pretty much anywhere, right? So she follows a dog around? Or was she led to the dog? Everything does have a purpose.

But it's not like she believes in that stuff anyways.

She recognizes the place at least. It's downtown. An alleyway behind the restaurant. But it's kind of interesting because it looks different she thinks, although she can't tell why. It surprises her that she recognizes it at all because as long as she could remember, she has never been here before. No matter what they show in the movie's, nobody just randomly loiters around restaurant dumpsters. That was just asking for trouble.

And then suddenly she can hear what the dog hears and she can smell what the dog smells. The old homeless guy coughing down the street and the feet of mice twittering. If mice's feet twittered. She also smells the trash…

And it's horrid. Worse than anything she ever smelled before. It makes her want to hold her nose but of course she can't. She doesn't know how. But then for some reason she doesn't want to. The trash is putrid and rancid and every other word that means the same thing that she can't seem to think up at the moment but she's inexplicably attracted to it. There's something interesting in it and she wants to know what. Like a mystery. And now she sees what the dog sees too which is exciting because she really wants to know what is in that dumpster.

And then the dog blinks its eyes and when they open she's not in the alley anymore. She, they, are on a street and there's three dogs staring back at them. Her dog growls and bares its teeth. One of the others whimpers but they don't back down.

She smells the area. It doesn't smell familiar. She realizes it's not her dog's territory. It scares her that she would even know a thing like that.

Her dog barks again and the others start backing away. They're too small to win a fight anyways.

But her dog lunges at them.

Part of her tells her to make it stop because it isn't right and the other part tells her to enjoy it because it is about time. But it doesn't matter anyways because she can't do anything. She can only watch. So she watches. Watches as her dog attacks all three at once and claws at them and bites at them as they try to get away. And then she realizes something else too. She can taste what her dog tastes because all of a sudden her mouth is filled with metal and she feels like her tongue is drowning in blood. And it's horrifying to her yet oh so satisfying. And she stops referring to it as her dog. Because it's not her dog anymore. It's her. And it's her claws that pierce more skin and her teeth that rip more fur and it's her that revels in the feel of it all.

But then she hears something else and she turns around. There's the other dog ready to strike and she closes her eyes tight because she knows what's coming and despite everything she really, really, wishes she were just watching from above again.

Then she opens her eyes and it's all gone.

_oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo_

Rahne opens her eyes slowly. It's almost summer so the sun starts rising earlier every day. Then her body shivers as a cold breeze brushes past her. But she closes her window every night before she goes to bed, which also means the light shouldn't be getting in…

This wakes her with a jolt. It happened again didn't it?

She looks around. She's on the street this time. How did she ever get out of the house? The sun is just starting to rise so she has maybe an hour to get back home. But she doesn't even know where she is. She begins to panic a little and the hairs on her arm start to rise. Her arm! She looks down and it's completely bare. Everything is missing. Even her shoes. All that remains are the top half of her pants that are too torn to stay up on their own. Could she do it? Walk home barefoot and topless? But it's not like she had any other choice.

Rahne is halfway to twelve but she thanks God ten times over that she hasn't hit puberty yet. If she is caught, she could pass as a boy, and hopefully none of this would get out. But suddenly all she can hear is Reverend Craig's voice in her head talking about women's whoring ways and all she could see is an image of herself burning in hell.

She quickly throws an arm over herself protectively. And then she feels something on her shoulder. It's sticky and wet. Somehow she knows right away that it's blood. She does a quick search of her body. Nothing. She isn't hurt. So where did the blood come from?

_ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo_

It doesn't take her long to figure out where she is. And it's only about a twenty-minute walk to the church and her house from there. Of course she doesn't have her keys or anything so she wonders if she can get in through her second story window, where she assumes she got out in the first place. She tries climbing the tree outside but she never had much practice climbing trees and she especially can't do it without shoes on. But she tries again and she manages to get a hold of one of the limbs. Then her feet slip and she's dangling not too far off the ground but far enough. She tries pulling herself up onto the limb and just when she thinks she's going to make it, she hears the crack.

It sounds just like it does in the movies. The branch falls and she goes with it, landing with a thud, the branch on top of her. A light turns on inside the house and she really really wishes it's not Reverend Craig. But she sees the shadows right before the door opens and it looks like the whole world is coming to greet her. Reverend Craig opens the door too quickly for her to run, but she is scared enough that the thought never even crosses her mind.

"Rahne!" She stares at the Reverend with nothing but genuine fear in her face. She barely even notices her other housemates staring at her. Two of them yell or argue or something and Rahne can intermittently hear words like evil and devil. The other one just stands there and watches.

But what she really cares about is the man stalking after her with a look she had rarely seen in all her days. A look that some might consider evil in its own right.

He grabs her by the upper arm and drags her away never even attempting to remove the broken limb from on top of her. Unable to get to her feet, the girl is literally pulled along the ground. The Reverend is too angry to even talk and Rahne is too scared to listen. But she does understand something. Something along the lines of she looks, or perhaps she smells, like sin and debauchery. Demon seed?

Inside the house he raises the girl to her feet and hands her a jacket, which she quickly uses to cover herself. He looks her up and down while summing her up. He yanks the chain off her chest, snapping it painfully behind her neck. "You are unworthy of this cross," he whispers to her maliciously. Rahne's eyes begin to fill with tears. He thrusts a bible into her hands and then throws her to the floor of their hallway closet already adorned with candles and pictures of saints. Ready for worship. The door begins to close for what she knows will be like an eternity. "You will come out only when you purge yourself of these evil spirits," he tells her. The only other sound she hears is the distinctive click of the closet door locking.

It takes her some twenty hours of reading God's words aloud before she loses her voice. But she continues on in a harsh whisper for another fifteen before the Reverend opens the closet door. It takes five more and utter exhaustion for Rahne to be satisfied with her own repentance. Three weeks to gain back her cross, on a new chain. But the guilt? She worries there is no time long enough to rid her of that.

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Next Chapter: math, Rahne figures out what's going on. Unfortunately so do others. 


	5. math

Disclaimer: I own diddly. Oh yeah, and squat.

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Chapter 5: math 

Rahne sits at the desk downstairs copying her favorite quotes from her most recent school assignment into her notebook. These were the things she secretly enjoyed. Literature and history. Every lesson was filled with stories. It was like the bible. But people weren't supposed to read the bible for stories or enjoyment. There was no place in a good life for imagination. It was the sign of an idle mind. And what with the devil always looking for vessels. There was no middle ground when it came to faith. Just good versus evil. Control versus temptation. Right versus wrong. Like math. Her real favorite subject.

'No man is an island,' she writes. John Donne. Not that she really understands what it means, but that's how private schools get there funding.

Rahne feels a tickle on her arm and silently curses those darn mosquitoes as she starts to scratch. An action that is of course followed by a short repentance.

She begins again. 'Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind.'

She scratches again unconsciously, first her leg then her arm again, while continuing to read her book. Suddenly she feels a stinging sensation in her arm and her fingertips feel wet. She looks down to see a small cut in her arm, but she doesn't really care. What she really notices is that the hair on her arm is growing. She stumbles out of her chair and her nails scratch along the top of the desk. She looks at her fingers that once had such small evenly cut nails that had never even been painted only to see five bone-like points sticking out of her suddenly stubby fingers.

"Reverend Craig!" She screams as she tries to push her hand as far away from her as possible, wishing she could just cut it off. "Reverend Craig!" she sobs as he bounds down the stairs half expecting someone to be murdered.

"Rahne! What is it? What happened?"

She turns around to face him, her face covered in a reddish-brown film. He takes a step back. "Holy…"

"Reverend Craig, help me." She pleads with him as she comes towards him and grabs the front of his religious garb. She is almost as tall as he is and she pulls him close to her with her large clawed hands. He is frozen with confusion and fear obviously written across his face. "I don't know what's happening. Please help me." Her voice sounds of desperation and he can see the steady stream of tears soak the growing fur on her face. Her 'nails' grow longer and they easily slice through the cloth they hold leaving the man wearing nothing but shreds of his formerly distinctive clothing. With the sudden release of pressure he falls back. She stares at him with helpless, pleading eyes, like she has for the entirety of her life. And for once in Reverend Craig's long life he finds he has nothing to say. It is only now that he realizes the fear he's felt of the girl since the day she was born… and oddly enough it saddens him.

He runs out the back door not daring to take another look at his daughter.

She runs out the front.

_ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo_

_Moira, Cerebro's picking up something strange._

Well, hello to you to.

_I'm sorry for the rudeness, but I've never seen or felt this before._

Charles, you sound so worried. Tell me what's happening. Is it Rahne?

_Yes. She's using her powers._

Her powers? But it's hardly nine. She's never used her powers before three am.

_I know. And it's the way she's using her powers._

The way? Is she hurting people?

_No. I think she's hurting herself. I don't know what might happen. We could lose her completely tonight._

Oh… Can you tell me where she is?

_ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo_

'Stop, stop, stop, stop,' she chants in her head forcefully over and over again as she walks down the streets of the city, the roar of the gathering townspeople not far behind. She's been down this street so many times before but she doesn't recognize it. Doesn't even try. Her thoughts are in and out and she feels her head buzzing, but it's almost like those thoughts are in some other language that she can't understand, and doesn't even realize she can't. For a moment she even stops thinking about the mob.

"Rahne?"

She stops in her tracks. That's a voice she recognizes. Rahne turns around as best she can with her body constantly in a state of transition between human and something else. Her fingers grow claws and her legs are unable to balance her growing body. But when she hears this voice, something in her clicks. And soon she starts looking like that little red headed bookworm again.

Jinty stares at the 'girl' in fear. Her body changing rapidly unlike anything she had ever seen before. But she had seen this girl before. In fact only a few hours ago she was sitting beside her in class. Listening to that same boring lecture watching the second hand on the clock go by too slowly. It surprises her that she recognizes Rahne at all though. And she's almost too afraid to move. But then she looks human again and she looks at Jinty with those bright green eyes and she can't help but care.

"Rahne, what's wrong? What happened to you?"

Rahne doesn't answer. Doesn't even understand the question really.

Jinty reaches out to touch her reassuringly. She places her hand on Rahne's upper arm. Rahne looks down at it and when she raises her face something is different. Suddenly her face begins to elongate and her ears start to point, but all Jinty notices are her teeth.

Rahne's fangs grow until they look like they won't fit in her mouth anymore. They hang down ending in sharp little points that Jinty would later come to call vampire teeth. But it all happens in a split second and Jinty is so shocked that even if she had the time, she still probably wouldn't do anything.

Before she can remove her hand, Rahne's fangs sink into its flesh. Blood spews in every direction. At first she doesn't even feel the pain but then it hits her like a truck. Rahne shakes her head violently as if attempting to tear the arm from the body until Jinty screams.

Rahne backs away scared, shocked back into reality by the scream. She looks at Jinty with wide eyes as the other girl backs herself into a corner while cradling her lifeless arm. She wants to help the girl but both are too afraid. They share an empathetic look in the silence.

Until they hear something. BAM. A gunshot. Close. Probably brought on by Jinty's cries although at the moment, that matters least. Rahne breaks the very human bond she shares with her classmate as she goes again on the run for her life.

She hopes one day for Jinty's forgiveness and she regrets that she will probably never be able to ask for anything past the look that they shared. But Jinty does forgive her, and Rahne somehow knows that.

_oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo_

"Stop the car."

Moira looks out her window and sees a very large oddly shaped shadow stalk through an adjoining street. Like the figure of a creature hunched over from a bad horror movie. It stands a little straighter and walks awkwardly under a lamppost before stumbling over onto the dark sidewalk on the other side of the street.

Moira runs out of the taxi leaving her door wide open as she yells back at the driver to wait for her. She runs to the monster once known as Rahne and attempts to look for life signs but in this human-wolf hybrid form, she isn't sure how. She raises the creature – girl, partially onto her arm as she pats her face with her other hand in an attempt to rouse her. She is so busy tending to the girl that she doesn't even notice the man now watching them.

"Moira MacTaggert?"

Moira looks up. "Revered Craig." He looks disheveled. His hair is a mess and he still wears his torn robe.

"What are you doing?"

Moira looks back down at Rahne. "I'm trying to help this child." Rahne's body slowly becomes more humanoid in shape.

"Do you know what it is you're holding?"

"Yes." Moira pays almost no attention to the Reverend. "A little girl."

"She's possessed by the devil. I've seen it with my own two eyes."

"Then I'll give her an exorcism later," she responds harshly. "But right now, if she doesn't come with me, that mob is going to get her." Rahne is completely human now and Moira begins to occupy herself with checking her pulse again.

"And they'll kill her won't they?" the Reverend whispers to himself.

"Rahne? Rahne, wake up. Come on." She ignores the Reverend completely now, perhaps even forgets. He walks up to the pair of them and kneels down in front of Moira. He takes off his coat and slips it over Rahne before slipping his arms beneath her. Startled Moira relinquishes her grasp on the girl. He cradles her like a baby in his arms while she stares at Reverend Craig in fear knowing that he would never willingly give the child up. Rahne's head dangles over his arm as he struggles to support her in her vulnerability. He looks down at the peaceful expression on her resting face silently wishing to see those green eyes once more.

"You'll take care of her? Give a her a good life?" he asks Moira, not moving his gaze.

Moira smiles reassuringly at this. "Of course."

* * *

Chapter 6: safe, Rahne's first night at Muir  
Chapter 7: bloodwork, Rahne attempts suicide, or as she explains to Moira, sacrifice 


	6. safe

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Not even the random lines I steal from other movies.

* * *

Chapter 6: safe 

_Moira are you still there?_

What? Oh, sorry. It's been a long night and I'm just a little tired. It's past three here.

_Perhaps you should take a little nap?_

No. No. I want to be here when she wakes up.

_How long has she been unconscious?_

Since I found her. I've put her in the guest room for now. I'm sure she'll be seeing plenty of the lab in these following weeks… I'm worried about her Charles. It's like you said. We very well might have lost her tonight.

_We're doing everything that we can._

But she was already dealing with such difficult issues and now with the loss of Reverend Craig and this sudden displacement I fear we may have done more harm than good. I doubt she's ever even been outside of her town before.

_If you didn't take her out of there, she probably would not be alive right now. It isn't safe._

No, I fear it isn't safe anymore. But Charles, Muir Island is no place for a child. And me? I don't even like children.

_Moira, we will figure this all out when it comes time for that. Just know that you did what had to be done and this little girl is alive and well because of it._

Alive, Charles. She is alive. Let's just leave it at that.

_oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo_

Rahne opens her eyes slowly. She enjoys that moment of peace before realizing she is not in her own bed. But she is too removed from her surroundings to let herself become very distraught by it. Things are very peaceful here and she allows herself for once to just accept it. She slowly raises her upper body and props herself up onto her elbows as she looks around the large room. It's beautiful. With flowers painted on the bright orange walls and carpet on the floors. The bed is bigger than she's used to and she feels like she's swimming in a sea of fluffy pillows and blankets with random birds embroidered into the corners. It sure beat the boring browns and beiges of her own room.

Rahne hears a click and the door on the wall to her left opens. A woman walks in. She looks to be somewhere in her mid to late thirties with hair that is brown and shoulder length. That's all Rahne really notices. She carries herself with pride and confidence and she looks kind. But Rahne already knows that looking kind didn't always mean much. In her hands are a small paper cup and a glass of water.

"Hello, Rahne. Are you feeling okay?" she inquires.

Understandably, there is no answer. Rahne just stares at this stranger.

"My name is Moira MacTaggert. I'm a doctor and you're in my home on Muir Island. Don't worry you'll be safe here." She reaches the hand out that carries the little paper cup with two white pills. Rahne backs away as soon as Moira comes closer. She pulls the blanket up until it covers even the lower half of her face so Moira can only see her big green eyes peer over the cloth. She doesn't even notice the pills in her hand.

"Please, stay away from me," She whimpers from behind the blanket in a muffled voice so quiet Moira can hardly understand what she says.

"It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you," she tries to say reassuringly.

"No, you don't understand. I don't want to hurt you. Not like I hurt Jinty."

"Shh, Rahne. Everything's going to be fine. I know what's happening and nobody is going to get hurt, okay? I just want to give you something to help you sleep."

Rahne drops the blanket and pushes herself even farther back against the adjoining wall. "No," she says strongly. "I can't go to sleep. IT happens when I go to sleep. Don't make it happen again," she pleads now having lost her confidence. "Please. Don't make me go to sleep."

"Okay." Moira doesn't push. Only lovingly looks over the frightened girl. "I won't make you do anything you don't want to do."

* * *

not done yet... 


	7. bloodwork

Chapter 7: bloodwork

_Maybe you can give her something to help her sleep._

I've tried that a few times. It seems a drug-induced fatigue is the only thing strong enough to actually keep her asleep. But she is still so afraid to lose consciousness at all.

_Does the wolf still only come out at night?_

Yes. Usually. Although daytime incidents are occurring more often.

_And her tests are revealing nothing?_

Well, no. Her blood work doesn't show anything drastic. It doesn't look like her mutation is advancing in any way. Just the usual. Of course I will continue with that, but I think what in reality may be occurring is that she doesn't have control over her powers.

_Weren't you saying she has too much control?_

Well yes. I guess her intense control over herself has backfired in a way. It's like you suggested earlier. She pushed away so much of herself to have control as Rahne that those thoughts and feelings are looking for a way out in anyway possible.

_That would also explain why her wolf persona only comes out when she sleeps. It's the only time she lets her guard down._

Exactly. Which worries me. Now that she transforms when she is awake, I fear it's becoming another personality entirely separated from 'Rahne'. The struggle between her two selves was already taking shape the night I found her. Her two sides fought for control of the same body while both were conscious. This explains the constant transformations she experienced that night as well as the hybrid form I found her in.

_You know this could mean serious psychological problems for her. If it is the case, then I don't see how medication would improve anything. It seems her mental status is what's really important now._

Medicating sleep is the only way she gets any rest. She refuses to on her own, and even when she does she spends most of the night awake as the wolf. But, you're right. If anything, the medication is just making the situation worse. Medicating her is forcing even more control on Rahne.

_I suppose what we need to do is find someway to merge her two personalities again. Of course this would best be done through human Rahne. If there was someway we could slowly incorporate a few of her wolf qualities into her normal self. Then she could utilize her wolf and hybrid forms without that sort of hostile takeover in her mind. If her wolf side were not pushed away constantly, there would be no need for it to force itself to be separate from Rahne's control._

Nice theory Charles. But easier said then done.

_If you wish, I could fly out there to help her through this. I've faced a somewhat similar situation before._

No. This is nothing like Jean. You can't just lock part of her away if things don't work out. It's not just power you're talking about.

_Of course. You're right. I'm sure there won't even be a need for such talk. Things will work out._

… And if they don't?

_They will, Moira. Have a little faith._

_ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo_

"Good morning, Rahne. How are you feeling today?" Moira stands at the table of her lab, prepping her needles with white gloves as if she were playing the part of Doctor in any typical hospital movie.

"Fine, ma'am." Rahne stands at the entrance to the lab. Her arms cross in front of her chest defensively, like she needs protect herself from the outside world while simultaneously keeping that world safe by holding her own self safely locked away. She stands just inches from the edge of the two door doorframe to keep herself from blocking the passageway for no one in particular and also refusing to contaminate the surroundings with her presence. She looks exhausted with dark spots around her eyes but the thought of needles keeps her well alert. She watches the back of Moira's brown head.

"Fine." Moira doesn't take her eyes of her equipment. She quirks as eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Okay. I'm sorry about all this testing. I'm just going to take a little bit of blood today. Then maybe we can go into town and have a real breakfast. It's very polite of you to eat what we have here, but I know I'm not any kind of a cook."

"Maybe I can stay here?"

She finally turns around to look at Rahne, but Rahne's eyes automatically glance elsewhere. "Oh, sure." She puts down the needle and pats a spot on the examination table. "Here. Why don't you pop on up here and we can get started." Rahne, like always, does as she is told. Moira raises her sleeve and Rahne flinches slightly at the stranger's cold rubbery touch. Moira proceeds to delicately prep the area and Rahne scrunches her nose in a silent protest to the strong smell of alcohol emanating from her arm.

"That's a really pretty cross."

Rahne raises her right arm to her chest and gently touches the piece. "Thank you, ma'am."

"It's slightly worn. Did you ever think about getting another one?"

"No. My mother left it to me."

The next few moments pass in awkward silence.

"Okay. We're almost done here," she says as the tube slowly fills with the dark liquid. Rahne makes a point not to look at the piece of metal in her arm that drains part of her life away or the woman that takes it.

Moira takes a hand and brushes one of Rahne's short locks behind her ear. Rahne purposely ignores it. But as she places her hand on Rahne's shoulder, Rahne suddenly turns her head. The quick move doesn't startle Moira but the fact that the lower half of Rahne's face is now stretched out into a tooth filled snout does.

Before Moira can react Rahne pounces and her teeth sink into the flesh of Moira's upper arm. Moira looks with fear into Rahne's eyes. Eyes that are still very much human and slowly Rahne changes back.

Slightly confused she wipes her mouth with her hand. A hand that is now streaked with Moira's blood. Her own arm drips red and the vial once attached to it lies shattered on the sterile floor.

Moira tears off the sleeve of her white lab coat and uses it to blot the blood flowing from her arm. The contrast of red to white makes the injury look worse than it is. She quickly finds some gauze and using her one free hand and her own teeth, ties it around the wound to stop the bleeding. As she does this she hears a loud clatter. She looks up to see a clutter of her instruments strewn across the floor and Rahne holding one of the scalpels in a bloody hand. Her hand shakes visibly as she holds the blade up to her neck.

"What are you doing Rahne?" Moira cautiously gets up to her knees.

"I'm sorry I hurt you. I didn't mean to." The tears form in Rahne's eyes.

"It's okay." Moira stands now with her hands raised. "Nothing happened. I'm fine." She emphasizes her bandaged arm to show the girl that it isn't bad. "See? Can you put the knife down now?"

"No." Her voice quakes.

"Rahne please. Think about what you're doing."

"I am."

"Don't do this."

"I don't think it's really suicide. It's like sacrifice. Like Jesus," she justifies but Moira isn't exactly sure which one of them it is meant for.

"I don't understand. I know you don't want to do this."

"I don't, but it's the only way to get rid of the demon." The knife in her bloody shaking hand slips slightly and Rahne grips it tighter. Her knuckles start turning white.

"What demon?" Moira asks confused.

"The demon!" she screams. "Inside me." How could she not get it? Rahne chuckles lightly at her predicament. "A wolf in sheep's clothing." The Lord can't be your Shepard if you're not really a sheep, can He?

"Rahne?" Moira inches forward hoping the mood changes provide enough of a distraction.

"Stop!" Rahne points the knife toward the doctor threateningly and roughly dabs at the moist skin around her eyes and wipes her nose with her other hand. "Don't get any closer."

"That's right Rahne. I need you to yell. There is no demon."

"No! There is." She brings the blade back up to her throat and begins to slowly push down. "He possesses me. He turns me into that monster." A drop of blood escapes and runs down her neck until her shirt soaks it in.

"You were never a monster." Moira speaks as if talking to a young child, which at the moment Rahne seems to be in many ways. "You were just so quiet all the time your loud needed a way to get out."

"Shut up." Those words especially feel so awkward coming out of her mouth. So unlike anything she would've said a week ago. "You don't know what you're talking about. You don't know what it's like. That thing is not me." Nobody knew the hell she was going through.

"Don't hold it in. Tell me what you really think."

"What I think?" The few tears escape down her face. "I think God hates me."

Moira wasn't sure she ever believed in God but the comment saddens her more than she might ever realize. She sees the faith and devotion in Rahne's glistening eyes and it is unlike anything she ever imagined. And for a split second she feels something. Whether it be a pang of God or hope or what have you. She sees something in those eyes that makes her want to believe.

No longer trying to elicit a response from Rahne, she answers with complete sincerity. "God," the God she is so sure doesn't exist, "does not hate you."

"What are you talking about?" Angered by Moira's irrationality, she counters with her own logic. "I just said that He does!"

"It's a test Rahne. God only tests those who can handle it. Those who are worthy."

Rahne's knife wielding hand slowly starts to fall from her neck. She responds in a hushed child-like voice, "But He took my parents."

"Because He loved them."

Rahne raises her head to look at Moira. Their eyes connect in empathy if only for a moment. Moira watches as Rahne's eyes suddenly flash with anger again. "Why are you still talking?" She points at the doctor accusingly with the knife again. "I told you to stop talking!" Her voice reaches levels in pitch, volume, and strength that she never realized were possible.

"If you want me to stop talking then make me stop talking."

"I don't get it," she whines like a five-year old learning math. The knife making it's way back to her throat out of sheer desperation and frustration. "What do you want from me?"

"I want you to understand that you don't have to be something you don't want to be. You don't have to hurt yourself and you don't have to be in control all the time. It's okay to yell or be angry. You can like whatever it is you want to like. It's okay to not do your homework sometimes." Rahne's eyes shift as if she is looking around inside herself and Moira waits for Rahne to look at her again before continuing. "It's okay to miss your mother."

Her mother…

Rahne's arm falls. The sound of metal crashing echoes in the room as the scalpel clatters to the floor from her grip. Her head slumps down and she falls to her knees. "I do miss her," she whispers to herself. She sits on the cold tile floor. Moira's blood now outlines her face as Rahne catches her tears in her hands. The tiny sprinkling of tears flow into a steady stream running down her face. Her earlier inaudible cries become huge heaving sobs. Her body convulses awkwardly as she mourns all the things of her life.

Moira crawls along on the floor carefully avoiding the broken glass and fallen utensils as she makes her way over to the sobbing girl. She puts a hand on Rahne's head, much like a priest does to a parishioner, wishing she could bestow all the world's goodness onto her with just the touch. She can feel the girl heave under her touch. She wants to do so much but knows she can't. And as her mind races with a million thoughts as to how to proceed, her body simply pulls the girl into its arms in the kind of embrace everyone longs for if even far in the back of their minds. Maybe the first Rahne had ever felt. And she allows it.

And into the girl's shining red hair Moira whispers, "I know."

* * *

to mini wolfsbane - thanks for the review. really. i got pretty discouraged more than a couple chapters ago. i'm not even sure why i kept going but now i'm glad i did. it really is too bad that there is no serious market for rahne stories in any verse. but i've got some more plans for her. here's hoping 

next chapter - the invisible man. the mummy. the wolf girl. the end.  
self-explanatory, no?


	8. the end

Chapter 8: the invisible man. the mummy. the wolf girl. the end.

Have you thought about it?

_I've though about it._

And…

_And I've decided to reopen the school for new admissions._

Charles, that's wonderful news.

_You were right. We can't claim to be a school with only six students and you know what that means come tax season._

I'll give Rahne the news right away.

_I'm very excited to finally meet her. She's fourteen now right?_

Yes. Starting high school. I'm sure she'll be excited to meet you too, once I tell her who you are.

_Moira, you mean in the past three years, you haven't mentioned me once? Why I've practically watched her grow up._

You know me Charles. I don't mix my personal life with my business life. Except for when they mix of course.

_I can't believe after all we've been through you still don't consider me as part of your personal life._

Charles, even when you were my personal life, you were still only a part of my business life. Just think of yourself as the man behind the curtain. The man that's important enough to keep around even though he doesn't get seen.

_Uh huh, you just wait for Rahne to start here and we'll see what she really thinks of you._

_ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo_

Rahne looks out the window of the plane. This is her first time on a plane and she insists long before that she will have the window seat in order to experience every second of her journey. But nobody told her it'd be so boring. Sky looks like sky from any angle.

She sighs. At least if they were sitting by the wings she could be on the lookout for that Twilight Zone monster that attacks plane engines. In the movie, John Lithgow scares the monster away with a gun, but they did a thorough check of all passengers for any 'weapons' before letting anyone on this plane. Terrorist threat and all. But when an imaginative girl watches too much fantasy and sci-fi the real threat is the monsters. She's at least glad they don't screen for mutants, you know, so she can protect herself just in case the monster decides to come inside before the plane falls to it's horrific fiery death.

Moira looks over at the seat next to her. Rahne slumps with her arms crossed on the armrest and her chin sits listlessly on it. She stares out the window but Moira can still see the boredom in her face.

"You know," she attempts to break the silence. "When some people reach a certain comfort level with their gifts, like a kind of acceptance, they sometimes rename themselves."

Rahne turns around. "I like Rahne. My mother gave me that name."

"I know. I like it too." Moira smiles while fiddling with the end of her headset wire. "It would still be your name. This is more like a nickname. You know when someone has a bubbly personality, people start calling them, I don't know. Bubbles?" she says sarcastically. "Your name comes from who you are and shapes who you will be."

"Do you not have a name because you don't have 'gifts'?"

"You don't think I have gifts?" she asks in mock hurt.

"No," she stifles a chuckle. "That's not what I meant."

"I feel like I have my own name. Doctor. I wasn't born with it you know. And I don't know, I think it fits."

"It does, doesn't it?" Rahne stops tracing the shapes on the fabric of the seat in front of her with her finger and looks up at Moira. "So something like the Wolf Girl?" she asks still unsure of the idea.

"That sounds more like one of those old monster movies. You know, The Mummy. The Invisible Man. The Wolf Girl."

"What if I spell it with U's?" Moira stares at her. "What? I like U's." She starts tapping her foot against the side of the plane unconsciously.

"I don't know. I've never been a big fan of just putting random letters places."

"Um… wolf, er wolverine?" She cocks an eyebrow.

"No." Moira laughs. "Definitely not Wolverine."

"I don't know." Rahne sighs exasperated as she sinks back into her seat. "Maybe I'm not ready yet."

"How about this? What if I give you a name?" She turns her head towards Rahne as she asks permission. "Would that be okay?"

"I guess," she responds then smiles enthusiastically. "Yeah."

Moira waits a moment. "What about Wolf's-bane?"

"Wolfsbane?"

"Yeah. I know you kind of grew up on the Chronicles of Narnia. Isn't Wolf's-bane the name they give Peter in the first book?"

"Yeah," she scoffs. Then she adds slowly and deliberately as if talking to a very slow child. "The bane of wolves. Because he kills a wolf."

"It wasn't because he killed a wolf. He saves Susan. Classic good over evil."

Rahne raises her eyebrows. "I didn't know you were interested in C.S. Lewis." She gets up slightly to sit on one of her legs.

"I wasn't… not until about three years ago." She adds nonchalantly. She smiles at the flight attendant for bringing her drink. "Oh, also, wolfsbane is a plant that people used to turn themselves into werewolves."

Rahne pulls down her tray and puts it back up as she fidgets restlessly. "It's hard to imagine people wanted to be this way."

"Stop pretending that you don't."

She smiles. It's funny how well Moira has come to know her. "You already put a lot of thought into this, didn't you?"

Moira takes another sip from her clear plastic glass. "Maybe."

_ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo_

Charles wheels into the main lobby with Moira walking beside him and Rahne beside her. A taller student with brown hair and red sunglasses stands up when he sees them approach. Another student with blonde hair simply watches them over the top of her magazine.

"I'd like you to meet some of the other students. You're a little early for the school year so there are only four here at the time." The taller boy walks up to them. "This is Scott."

He offers Moira and Rahne a hand, which they both accept. "Hi. Rahne right?" She nods in the affirmative.

The Professor points to the blonde. "And Tabitha." Rahne raises a hand towards her direction.

She closes her magazine but keeps her finger in it to mark her spot as she looks the other girl over with her eyes. "Nice hair," she adds with a smile but Rahne can't tell if she's being sincere or not.

There's a rush of sound coming from the entranceway and three identical boys enter. They see the crowd and immediately merge into a blushing one. "Sorry."

"I believe you've already met Jamie."

"Charmed… again." He says with a smirk. Rahne smiles.

"You don't talk a whole lot do you?" This comes from the couch. The one called Tabitha. (1)

"I do when I have to." Rahne counters.

"Well that'll be a nice change," Scott says giving a head nod in Tabitha's direction.

"Zip it, four-eyes." The blonde gives him a death glare before returning to her magazine. "Or is it one-eye?" Although no one can tell behind that red glass, Scott rolls his eyes. "At least I don't talk to myself, out loud."

"Hey!" the little one whines. He looks to Rahne. "It's not like I always have a choice." Then back to Tabitha. "I can't read minds. Oh, no offense, Professor."

"Of course not," he smiles kindly.

"Rahne," Moira puts a hand on Rahne's back. "Why don't you take a look around the mansion. I have some business to discuss with the Professor."

She looks up at Moira. "Okay, mum."

"Come on," Scott offers. "Let's meet Rogue.

"Oh, Scott," Jaime adds, "then can we go to the garage so she can see the cars?" He turns to Rahne. "They're really cool."

"Sure. Maybe we'll even see Wolverine there."

Rahne chuckles as they walk off and Scott and Jamie share a look as neither of them can figure out why.

Moira and Charles walk and wheel respectively away as well, leaving the blonde alone to enjoy page 86 of her magazine.

"I didn't realize she was calling you that now."

Moira puts a hand on the Professor's shoulder. "Well, Charles, I am her mother. What should she be calling me?"

* * *

(1) As long as it saves Marvel some money from hiring a fulltime voice actor right? 

Special thanks to nikeon and wolfbane chris for reviewing. It made my day. And thanks to everyone that even read this. I hope I did Rahne justice and I hope you enjoyed it.

Sorry. I didn't realize the last line ended up sounding cryptic. It's just that she's been raising Rahne for three years and has become her mother. Rahne's biological mother is still dead.


End file.
